A Deal with the Devil

In the ever desperate attempt to hold onto my rapidly fleeting youth, I find myself in some of the oddest of situations. This one is no exception.

As a lover of Latisse (the serum that causes your eyelashes to grow lush and luxurious) I have found that running out of it is much akin to Cinderella at midnight on the night of the ball.

This sexy little serum causes your lashes to grow so long that every time you look up it feels like a butterfly has landed on your eyelid, (I happen to LOVE that!) causes people to stop and compliment your eyes, and has women of all ages doing double takes demanding to know what kind of mascara you use.

I thoroughly enjoy telling these “seekers of beauty” what drugstore mascara I use all the while knowing my sacred little secret. (Good luck with that mascara boo hahahahaha.)

But when you run out and have no more on hand and no prospect of a tiny bottle of the medical miracle in your near future, things go south–quickly.

A small panic even starts to arise in my chest each time I apply the treatment and feel the bottle getting lighter and lighter and my eyelid is greeted with nothing more than tiny half-hearted bubbles and a spritz of misty air instead of the smooth stream of liquid magic. (I like to apply directly from the bottle so the brush doesn’t get any of the treatment that my eyelids so deserve.)

Well, Latisse isn’t cheap and when one doesn’t wisely fit it into the budget or one doesn’t find a way to get to the person supplying the Latisse, then one goes without.

And…the lashes…rebel and quickly remind you of why you went down this path to begin with.

You would think that not having it would just bring you back to what you had before, but in reality it brings you to a brand new low. It’s almost like it steals whatever you once had and replaces it with a scant version of sad little lashes that seem to be hauntingly saying, “You should’ve appreciated what you had.”

Is all beauty nothing more than a deal with the devil?

So, you fix it.

The obvious choice to avoid a lapse in eyelash luxury to me was false eyelashes.

How hard could that be?

I am so glad you asked.

It’s hard–the mother of hard things in makeup application. I really should have done a little more research, asked a few more questions, but that isn’t always my style.

Fast forward to me in the bathroom on a mission.

Sitting before me on the countertop is a pack of long, dark eyelashes, step by step instructions (there were only three steps), and a little bottle of glue scarily similar to the container that one might see in a movie housing a white powder that isn’t for headaches and can land you in in jail.

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About Amy Rafferty Slagle

I am a middle school teacher juggling career, husband (ooh la la), and twin tomboys (good grief). I have a passion for writing and crave laughter just about as much as frozen yogurt. This is my attempt at sharing the madness of my world, my mind, and my humor.
View all posts by Amy Rafferty Slagle